


Sundays

by Everlind



Series: Ever After verse [4]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:35:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everlind/pseuds/Everlind





	Sundays

**Sundays**

Morning starts the same it always has: with a blast of rock-music coming from his radio clock.

Shishido curls in on himself, making a cocoon within the thick comforter and groaning in protest. He stays like that for all of five seconds before his sleepy brain begins to function and tells him, _oh shit, it's sunday, get up and get up quick!_

With a curse he means to roll stealthily out of bed, but he hits the cabinet with a rather loud bang. Undeterred Shishido jumps up and is ready to point and exclaim triumphantly 'HAH!'... but instead his arm flops limply to his side and a surprised blink replaces the victorious crow. After all, there's nothing to be victorious about when his opponent isn't putting up a fight.

Frowning, he inches close to the bed, but not too close, he knows exactly how long the other's reach is. Likely this is a new strategy or even an ambush. Yet even when his shins hit the edge of the bed frame there's no sudden scramble to grab him, no strong arms wrapping around a leg of his. In fact, the huddle under the sheets doesn't even twitch.

Well, fuck, that's anti-climatic. 

For some reason his mood sours considerably at the lack of response, even though when questioned about it he'll adamantly deny that he likes their sunday tussles. Instead he gets to do what he's always planned to do on sunday for the past four months: go jogging. Like all other days of the week.

Shishido walks away from the bed and brushes the heavy drapes aside.

It's raining.

 _Of course it's raining_ , Shishido sneers inwardly. 

Finally he'll actually _go_ jogging for once on a sunday and it's pouring water from the sky like The Flood come early. Obviously it's going to be one of _those_ days.

It's five in the morning, a god-awful cold day in november, raining buckets and he's going jogging. That's okay. It was his resolution to go jogging every day of the week ever since they moved into this house. Now he actually gets to do it. According to plan. Yippie-damn-yay, right?

So why is he feeling so... frustrated? Now he gets what he wants and he still isn't content?

Maybe Atobe is right Shishido is just the kind of person that's never happy... 

Psssh. Yeah, right. Atobe is ten times as worse he is. Besides, Shishido is happy. Just not now.

With a sigh, he slides open the wardrobe and looks for his track pants. A warm sweater would be welcome, too. Since it's raining. And cold. And dark out. The bed had been nice and warm, wonderful and comfortable from their combined body heat. Now the chill hits his naked body and he shivers as he paws through the hangers. 

The rain pounds relentlessly against the window pane, ever so often aided by a sudden blast of wind. Trees are buffeted by the erratic temperament of the gale, alternately pulling and pushing, causing the house to creak and moan in protest.

By the time he's finally found all his clothes in the pitch-dark, he's scowling. He'll dress in the living room, where he can turn on a light without disturbing someone else's sleep. Rounding the bed, Shishido shuffles to the door, footsteps heavy.

Just as his hand touches the handle, there's a sleepy murmur from the bed.

"Hmpf," the huddle moves, turning towards him. "Ryou?" Choutarou calls softly, propping himself up on his elbows.

By now Shishido's eyes have adjusted enough to make out the broad shoulders from where the comforter has slipped down and a mad nest of pale hair. Eyes hooded with sleep blink at him.

"I'm going jogging," he says. At least, that's what he means to say. Instead it comes out as an accusation.

As if it's Choutarou's fault for being so deep asleep that he didn't grab him, hanging on and pleading Shishido to stay and sleep in together. Because that's how he _never_ actually managed to go jogging on sundays in the first place. The first time his partner asked him to stay, it was because it was their very first day off together in their new house. And Shishido isn't half as heartless as people think him to be and how the hell is he supposed to say no when Choutarou is looking at him like _that_? So with a token grumble, he'd let himself be seduced and had stayed in bed well past noon having celebratory sex. Cause, hey, they'd done it; they'd gotten a place together. 

In retrospect, he really should have made his heart of stone and refuse those big, brown eyes the first time. Ever since that one concession Choutarou had made a game out of it, almost, winding arms around his torso and holding Shishido until he had no choice but to allow himself to be pulled under the sheets again. Or curling warm fingers around his erection, the easiest way to get Shishido to stay. Sometimes it turned into a playful tussle, which would always end with his defeat as Choutarou has both the advantage of weight, height and power.

So when it comes down to it, not once has he made it outside, let alone out of bed, to go jogging. His alarm would go off and before he could even twitch, Choutarou would simply prevent him from leaving. Instead they'd have a playful fight, or a pillow war, or easy, languid morning sex, or even just went to sleep again. 

And, to be honest, Shishido sort of _liked_ that, though it might sound lame and girly.

Sundays mornings have become his favorite because of that. Okay, sure, he'll grumble and complain and jokingly blame Choutarou that it's his fault Shishido's getting lazy. But Choutarou knows him well enough to see that's it all fun and games, doesn't he? 

Right now though, Choutarou lies back down, settling. Shishido is torn for a moment, but can't make himself to put aside his pride long enough to drop his clothes and dive under the sheets again. 

Instead his hand tightens on the handle and he opens the door. 

He's almost through it when there's a sleepy, "Can't I have a kiss before you go?"

Making it a point to sigh loudly, but smiling all the same, Shishido throws his clothes down outside the door and walks over to the bed again. Choutarou helpfully reaches for him, preventing Shishido from banging into the bed, tangling fingers as Shishido reaches back. Bracing an arm on the mattress, Shishido leans down, slow enough that he doesn't accidentally bring their faces together with a bang. Wouldn't be the first time. Besides the laced fingers, Choutarou doesn't grab him when their lips meet, but he does make a contented hum. Morning breath is kinda gross and all, but when the both of them have stale breath it doesn't really matter. After the initial cringe, their mouths just cling and then slide together. Just right. 

Still Choutarou doesn't pull him down possessively, the way Shishido actually sorta wants him to do. Choutarou's almost passive; completely following his lead. Only one hand fingercombs through his short hair, sliding across his scalp and then cupping his nape briefly before repeating the moment. Shishido pulls back and Choutarou lets him. Still leaning forward, Shishido has their eyes meet. Dark eyes steadily stare back, glimmering in what little light there is. But the look in those eyes isn't passive at all, it's almost fierce and the obvious burn of arousal makes the pupils wide. 

Goddammit. 

Just one more kiss then. 

Again it's slow, calm, steady. Yet Choutarou opens his mouth readily enough when Shishido runs his tongue along the crease of his lips. The hand linked with his pulls away to join the other hand in cupping Shishido's face. It's still slow, but goes deeper, lingering, and despite the cold nipping his skin into goosebumps Shishido can feel himself grow hard.

When they pull apart again, Shishido is breathless, achingly aroused and very disgruntled. 

Choutarou is still just _lying_ there, lips slick with saliva and swollen from the kiss, hands leaving Shishido's body in a leisurely slide, but _leaving_ nonetheless.

 _Okay, step away from Choutarou, you can do it,_ Shishido urges himself. Just a few steps and he'd be through the door, an achievement of a lifetime. _Turn and go, turn and go, turn and go!_

Why isn't he turning and going? Why is he leaning down instead, he's supposed to go the other way! 

Rain and cold and jogging. Choutarou. Rain and cold and jogging. Choutarou. Rain and cold and jogging. Choutarou. Rain and cold and jogging. _Choutarou_. Rain and... argh, who is he kidding?!

And it's because his eyes are avidly on those lips that Shishido catches how they quirk, ever so fast, into a smile. There and gone.

But not fast enough. Shishido glares down at him. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" he grumbles.

There's a blink. "But I'm not doing anything," Choutarou points out.

That's it, Shishido can't take this anymore. "Exactly," he answers testily and with that one word he slides into Choutarou's side of the bed. 

Choutarou radiates warmth and after standing next to the bed for what must've been almost twenty minutes, Shishido can't stop the wracking shudders running through his body. As soon as he curls into Choutarou's body, drawing a gasp when his cold hands slide over a hot stomach, Choutarou opens his arms and wraps them around his chilled body. And finally, _finally_ , Choutarou's hold tightens and he rolls them so Shishido is on his back underneath him.

The body above him is deliciously warm, the skin smooth and soft. Shishido burrows into it, pressing his face in the curve of a neck and shoulder. Even the metal of the necklace is warm where it pools against his cheek. Their legs tangle, looking for a comfortable position and Shishido compromises by spreading his thighs and hooking his legs in a loose wrap behind Choutarou's knees. Choutarou is heavy and wonderful on top of him and smells of sleep and sweat and soap. And as a extra bonus, he's just as hard as Shishido is.

Lips press against his temple and murmur, "Weren't you supposed to go jogging?"

Shishido really wants to hit back with a nice sarcastic one-liner, but it's obvious he's been found out. After all, Choutarou did not do one thing, _nothing_ , to prevent him from finally going for his morning run. And where is he now? Still in bed. After he got out of it first, even. Instead he makes a grunt that could mean anything at all, hiding his expression under Choutarou's chin. 

"Uh-huh," Choutarou hums, sounding incredibly smug. "Isn't this easier than struggling for almost half an hour before giving in?" 

"Che. Alright, you _win_. Satisfied?" Shishido mutters, frowning at his own lame weakness. 

Choutarou lifts himself up, high enough that Shishido can't hide unless he hangs on like a monkey. Smiling, he stares down while Shishido scowls up.

"You're very contrary, you know that, Shishido-san?" Choutarou tells him, flexing down pointedly, focussing attention on how much Shishido's body _doesn't_ agree with the fierce scowl. 

"And you're a sneaky bastard," he growls, refusing to gasp even though that one simple move is enough to bring him embarrassingly close. "You purposefully ignored me."

The smile falters and Choutarou leans down to give him a close-mouthed kiss. "Why don't you just stay when you want to?"

Yeah, why doesn't he? To be honest, Shishido really is not sure himself. He wants to stay, but he gets up. He wants Choutarou to hold him and have sex with him, but he gets ready to go running.

Well, fuck it. Maybe Choutarou is right and he truly is contrary. 

Where has he heard that before? Oh yeah, from his mother. From his brother. Heck, from his whole family. Mukahi tells him so all the time. Jiroh might've mentioned it once or... much more than twice. And then there's Choutarou who doesn't tell him, but forces him to demonstrate it instead. And also... yeah, okay, he _gets_ it.

Before he can help it, a rueful smile tugs his mouth up lopsidedly. Choutarou's mouth moves, trying to repress it but after a moment they're just sorta grinning at each other.

He might've lost in this particular clash of wills, but there's something else Shishido can win at.

Hoisting his legs higher and winding them around Choutarou's hips, Shishido forces him down low enough to press his teeth against a collarbone. Shishido runs his hands across those shoulders, along his spine, down to cup Choutarou's bum and to pull him even closer against his hips. "You may talk big, but I just bet you were hard the whole damn time, weren't you?"

And just like that Choutarou blushes, almost feverishly, from the tip of his ears all the way down to his chest. Even after all these damn years he _still_ blushes at something as small as _that_. And Shishido isn't even talking dirty.

Yet.  
  



End file.
